The Psychedelic Renaissance: Lessons from the Rise, Fall, and Rebirth of Psilocybin

The history of psilocybin—the compound in “magic mushrooms”—reads like a parable of modern science. First celebrated, then condemned, and now rediscovered, its arc reflects how culture, politics, and fear can shape research as much as data.

Historian Benjamin Breen captures this drama in his recent book Tripping on Utopia (Grand Central, 2024), a sweeping history of psychedelic science. Writing in The New Yorker, Margaret Talbot distilled his central insight: the rise and fall of psychedelics was never just about the drugs. It was about ambition, blind spots, and the Cold War climate that turned curiosity into paranoia.

In the 1950s and early 60s, researchers envisioned psilocybin as a tool for healing—helping people with alcoholism, depression, and even fear of death. Yet enthusiasm often outran ethics. Some studies blurred into counterculture experimentation. Others, like those funded under CIA projects such as MKUltra, violated the most basic principles of informed consent. Breen reminds us that even good intentions can slide down “slippery slopes” when oversight and humility are missing.

Her Magic Mushroom Memoir reminds us that even good intentions can slide down slippery slopes when oversight and humility are missing.

By the early 1970s, the backlash was complete. Psychedelics were cast as dangerous and subversive, funding dried up, and promising research was buried under prohibition. For decades, the field lay dormant.

Today, psilocybin is back in the spotlight, this time with careful studies. Early findings suggest real benefits for depression, trauma, and end-of-life care. But the excitement comes with a warning: the same forces that once derailed psychedelic science—excessive hype, cultural bias, ethical lapses, financial conflicts of interests—could do so again.

That tension—the promise and peril of discovery—runs through Lydia's experiences in Her Magic Mushroom Memoir. The story dramatizes what Breen and Talbot describe: the slippery slopes, the unintended consequences, and the people caught in the currents of curiosity and fear.

Psilocybin’s rebirth may indeed change medicine. But its deeper lesson is timeless: science, without humility, can lose its way. To make this renaissance last, we need not only data, but memory—so the cycle of promise and prohibition doesn’t repeat itself once more.